Star Trek: Doomsday
by HeartofFyrwinde
Summary: Heading out into deep space almost a year after Khan's rampage, Captain James T. Kirk and the crew of the Federation starship Enterprise are faced with a crisis unlike any they've seen before when they stumble on another Starfleet ship. The dangers will challenge the entire crew and force Jim to make tough decisions in the face of a tragic obsession. (TOS episode "reboot")
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first foray into Star Trek. Having been inspired by the end of Star Trek: Into Darkness, I've decided to kick off my entry into the fandom with a little "reboot" of my own. Thanks to _ThatSassyCaptain_ and _Di the Creator_ for their feedback and for offering some ideas. Live Long and Prosper.

**Disclaimer**: I am not the owner of Star Trek or its characters-that honor goes to Paramount, CBS, and the minds behind this timeless series' creation-most notably Mr. Gene Roddenberry, Norman Spinrad and (in recent years) J.J. Abrams.

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><p><span><strong>Star Trek: Doomsday<strong>

"_Captain's log, stardate 2261.92. The _Enterprise_ is finally on her way out past the majority of Starfleet's subspace arrays. So far, it's been quiet, and to be honest, after that fiasco at Khitomer, I'm one of those who's glad for some quiet. We're currently maintaining a course for the Kandari sector. Commander Scott and Lieutenant Commander Marcus have informed me that the components added to the_ Enterprise_ from the wrecked _Dreadnought_-class prototype are operating perfectly. (Personal note on that, I owe Scotty a sandwich next time I'm in Engineering, and I owe Carol dinner at some point) Systems aside, we're holding steady at Warp 8.9. Guess that degree in Starship Design I earned back in Russia came in—"_

"—Captain?"

"—handy. Hm, looks like I'm needed. Kirk out." Laser-blue eyes lost their distant gleam and sharpened. The lanky slouch of Jim "I'm-too-sexy-for-this-shirt" Kirk—Starfleet's poster boy/man-child—morphed into the straight-backed, in-command posture of Captain James T. Kirk, thank you very much. "Yes, Lieutenant?" he asked, swiveling his chair to face the comms station.

Uhura was brief while she kept track of signals at the communications station. "Sir, I'm receiving a hail from Starfleet. Priority One. I'm going to have to filter out the interference."

_Oh, great._ Jim managed to keep his frustrated groan confined to the inside of his own head. He wanted to let it out aloud, because god damn it all, he was sick and tired of the Admiralty dragging him off in seven directions at once. "Well, so much for a quiet trip out," he muttered under his breath. He raised his voice to address the bridge. "On screen. Mr. Sulu, bring us down to Warp seven-point-five." The droning ambient whine of the _Enterprise_'s engines deepened slightly as Sulu eased the _Enterprise_'s speed.

The bridge's view screen flickered for a rather sluggish moment while Uhura worked to filter out subspace interference while Jim sat in his chair and sulked and did his best to look miffed. _Damn._ _What do the old farts want with me now?_ he wondered grumpily_. Another suicide mission or a milk run?_ _Better not be that old bastard Cartwright. _Spock's raised eyebrow (which bespoke his typical level-headed Vulcan disapproval) told Jim he'd said that last bit out loud. "Captain, such blatant insubordination against Starfleet's Admiralty would be unwise."

Whoops. "Aw, come on, Spock. Cartwright is so starched and by-the-book he probably drinks pulp instead of coffee!"

"An illogical assumption. I have observed the Admiral and have yet to see the man consume—"

The transmission clearing up broke up their short clash. When Jim saw the deeply lined face of Fleet Admiral Jonathan Archer onscreen, he allowed himself to relax just a bit. _Phew. At least it's not Cartwright._ Jim liked Archer well enough.

"Captain Kirk?" Archer's voice had roughened with age since his days captaining the prototype NX-01 _Enterprise_. His hollow-cheeked face was now deeply lined and his hair was snow-white.

"Admiral Archer. I'm surprised," Kirk replied, adding a smile, trying to keep back his usual wiseass grin. "I thought Starfleet didn't do social calls. Is there trouble, or do you guys seriously miss us already? You look younger than last time, by the way; been time traveling again?"

Jon Archer rolled his eyes, but it was with an easygoing smile that he answered Kirk. "I wish I could. Believe me, Jimmy, if I were thirty years younger and actually retired, I'd be out there with Erica flying off into the black. As far as I know, Earth is fine. I wouldn't be surprised if the Klingons try and bargain for peace with you and your crazy crew out of the picture for five years."

Jim gaped. "What? And leave us out of the fun?" He folded his arms and pretended to sulk. Sulu almost laughed. Ensign Naomi Troi, Chekov's relief at the navigational controls, smothered a giggle, and Jim smiled. His brief mock-childish pout eased the slight confusion on the bridge a little bit further, _'which is good,'_ Jim thought as he gathered his wits. It was very good, actually, because whatever was coming their way was probably the spacefaring version of an EF-5 tornado. Jim could see right past the old Admiral's casual façade. The grim glint in Archer's eyes was the one that always, always spelled the sort of trouble _Enterprise_ had to deal with on an almost weekly basis.

Sure enough, when Archer opened his mouth the news wasn't good. "Actually, I have some information for you and your crew, Jim. Approximately 36 hours ago, the USS _Constellation_ was dispatched from Earth to investigate a fragmented distress call from an Andorian trade outpost in System L-370." Archer's forehead furrowed in thought as he consulted something offscreen. "You're friends with the ship's current commanding officer, Commodore Matt Decker, am I right?"

Jim nodded, though he kept it neutral. "Decker? We were Academy classmates, although more, uh, close acquaintances than fully friends, sir."

"I see. Well, Decker took the _Constellation_ out and arrived in L-370 successfully at 0500 two days ago to render aid. He reported back some abnormal long-range scans. At 2249 hours yesterday, we lost all contact."

The bridge electrified and Jim felt a cold spot settle deep in his stomach. "The _Constellation_'s gone missing?" Sulu exclaimed.

Archer's mouth thinned. "Correct, Lieutenant Sulu. Captain, I'd like you to report to your ready room. There's something I need to discuss."

"Aye, sir. Uhura, patch him through." She nodded a reply and Archer's face dissolved in digitized static, revealing the racing tunnel of ambient energy created by the Enterprise's warp field. "Mr. Sulu?"

"Sir?"

"Drop us out of warp. We may need to regroup. Spock, you have the conn."

His friend nodded. "Affirmative, captain." Jim ignored the stars reforming and left.

Once Jim had settled in at his desk, he put Archer up on his private viewing screen. Archer's shoulders gleamed with the five rank pips of Fleet Admiral as the old man regarded him carefully. "Captain Kirk, before I go any further I want to impress on you how serious this matter is. What I'm about to tell you is classified—" "Yes sir," "—but frankly, you need to know."

Jim frowned. "About what, sir?"

"We've discovered something deeply unsettling. The _Constellation_'s only part of the reason why I want the _Enterprise_ to divert." Archer pursed his lips. "Several of our deep-space probes in the Kandari region have discovered a trail of planetary systems that've been systematically wiped out, all except for their stars. The most recent findings came from the deepest part of the Kandari Sector, and they were having trouble transmitting."

"How come? Those things shouldn't have much trouble transmitting."

"We believe it's due to subspace interference from…_something_. None of us know what." Archer's face showed every one of his advanced 146 years as worry crossed his features.

Jim sucked a breath through his teeth and hissed, "Wait a minute, L-370, that's—"

"—right in your path. I know." The old Admiral paused. "Look, Jim, the _Enterprise_ is the best damn ship in Starfleet right now. And no, that's not just for your ego's benefit, Captain," he snapped goodnaturedly, catching Jim's ego inflating. "She's faster than anything her size, and I'll just bet Lieutenant Marcus has been doing wonders for your phaser arrays."

"She has, sir. We're all glad to have her."

"All right. Now, I want you and your crew to scout the system for anything unusual. Get the _Constellation_ out of System L-370 as quick as you can, if you find her, understand? Get in there, find that ship, scan the region and get any survivors out ASAP. Whatever this phenomenon is, do NOT underestimate it, is that clear?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, Admiral."

Archer smiled. "Chris would've been proud of you, Captain. I'll send you the data and let you brief your crew at your own discretion. Archer out." The screen reverted back to the Starfleet emblem. Jim sat stock still for several moments before he managed to relax back into his chair. The very mention of Pike made his eyes sting and he hastily dashed the welling tears away because damn it, he was James Tiberius Kirk, not some bawling baby. But…proud? It was no small compliment coming from Jon Archer. He had history, he had guts, and he and Jim both respected each other. Jim sighed. Boy, he was glad Archer was back at the top of Starfleet. The Federation needed his wisdom.

But nevertheless, Kirk wondered, and worried. What the hell had happened to the _Constellation_?

There was only one way to find out. He strode out of the ready room and headed for the bridge. When he arrived back at the bridge, Spock was already waiting for him at the turbolift doors with one pointed eyebrow arched in a wordless query.

"Jim."

"Mr. Spock!" Jim patted his first officer's shoulder. "What've the latest?"

"Long range scans of System L-370 have been inconclusive so far, Captain," Spock replied in level tones. He led Jim to his station and accessed the logs. "Subspace interference is preventing further analysis. So far, I am finding it difficult to isolate the source."

Jim bit his lip. "Maybe it's just a pulsar, or residual radiation from a supernova."

He and Spock traded a glance that immediately put the limp excuse into its grave. "Unlikely. I have not detected any traces of stellar radiation consistent with such phenomenae."

"I was afraid of that," Jim muttered. He strode over to the command chair and commed Engineering. "Captain Kirk to Engineering. Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, sir?"

"Can we boost long range sensors, try and pierce some of this subspace interference?"

Down in engineering, Scotty winced as he paced around the warp core, checking various displays and making sure the ship's rookie engineers didn't blow up anything important. "Och, I dunno about tha', Captain. She's been running hot all week. Any higher power levels in those conduits is askin' for a gourmet course of _Enterprise_ en Flambé! We can reroute some power from the replicators f'r now, but only fer—" He stopped in his tracks in frustration when he spotted his Roylan assistant Keenser seated on top of one of the plasma manifold coolant conduits—at least ten meters off the ground. "Oi!" he bellowed. "Keenser! R'ye daft?! Get doo'n!"

Jim gave a snort at his Chief Engineer's antics. "Well, let's try to avoid having that. Keep working on it. Kirk out."

"Aye, sir."

Leaving Scotty to whatever-it-was down in engineering, Jim went back over to Spock. The Vulcan was still busy over at his station. "I presume the Admiral briefed you on additional circumstances regarding the _Constellation_'s disappearance," Spock remarked without turning around.

Jim's grin faded slightly and he squinted at his first officer in fake suspicion. "Heeeyyy, for a moment I almost thought you read my mind."

At this, Spock looked up. The barest upward quirk of his lips indicated he'd understood the humor. "Hardly, Captain. I merely utilized the factual evidence available to reach the most logical conclusion."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You're a real ball of fun, you know that, right?"

Up went the eyebrow again. "Vulcans are not spheroid life-forms, Jim," Spock replied, ever the logical Vulcan. Behind them, Sulu utterly failed to stifle a snort of laughter. "It is also illogical to assume an inanimate object will consist of an emotional experience; in fact, it is physically impossible."

"Relaaax!" Jim cajoled, aware of his crew's growing grins and fighting not to smile himself. "It's another figure of speech." He folded his arms. "You need a Terran phrase book for Christmas."

The eyebrow went up another notch. "And simply add to my growing overabundance of such literature?" was the reply.

"Hey, it pays to stay informed!" Jim patted his friend's shoulder again. "Just keep trying to get readings. We may need to signal Starfleet."

"Captain? That may not be—_uhhm_—p-possible." Uhura spoke up, but she had to stifle a yawn. As Jim approached, he realized she looked tired; extremely so, if those dark circles under her eyes were any indication.

"Lieutenant," he said, lowering his voice, "before I ask about that, how long has it been since you've slept?"

Uhura blinked, and a rueful grin crossed Jim's lips when she blushed. "About 36 hours, captain. Maybe more."

Jim nodded. He and Uhura—hell, the entire crew of the _Enterprise_—had gone longer without sleep before, but Jim wasn't going to tempt fate this time. "Okay, Fill me in. After that, turn in till tomorrow. That's an order. It'd be a shame if you bruised that pretty face by nodding off."

"Yes, sir." Uhura turned back to her station, though not before shooting him a halfhearted glare. "Right now I'm barely able to filter enough of the subspace interference out to get a clear transmission." She winced and put a hand to her earpiece—probably due to a burst of static in her ear. "Captain, if we go much closer to the area, we'll be unable to get a signal through to Starfleet."

"Then we'll have to go it alone," Jim concluded quickly, gnawing at his lip while his mind flew at Warp 10. "We have got to find that ship." He seated himself in the captain's chair. "Mr. Sulu, full impulse. Ms. Troi, lay in a course for System L-370."

"Aye sir." Enterprise's bank of impulse engines flared and the great ship spun on a dime under Sulu's experienced hands.

"Ready for warp on your command, Captain."

"Punch it."

A thrill went down Jim's spine as he watched the stars warp and stretch before his eyes. This was one of the best parts of being captain; going off into the unknown. It was what he lived for—the adventure of discovering new things in the depths of space, of seeking out new life and new civilizations. _Boldly going where no one has gone before_ rang through his mind as the rising whine of the warp coils began to shake the very fabric of space. The _Enterprise_ seemed to tense, eager to break into warp speed. And within the next split-second—FWAM! They were gone in a flash. _Enterprise_ disappeared, leaving two faint trails of plasma in its wake.


	2. Chapter 2: Wreckage

A/N: So, here's chapter 2. The tension mounts! Thanks again to Di the Creator and ThatSassyCaptain. Live Long and Prosper.

**Disclaimer**: I am not the owner of Star Trek or its characters-that honor goes to Paramount, CBS, and the minds behind this timeless series' creation-most notably Mr. Gene Roddenberry, Norman Spinrad and (in recent years) J.J. Abrams.

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><p>Star Trek: Doomsday<p>

Chapter 2: Wreckage

_Stardate 2261.92, 1347 hours_

_Location: U.S.S. Enterprise, Deck 5..._

It had taken a relatively short time to brief Alpha Shift's senior staff about the new mission from Starfleet Command—barely an hour.

Upon exiting the mess hall, Jim paused to shift his load into one arm before he moved to consult a directory display. "Computer?" A chirp emanated from the panel and the ready light flashed. "Locate Lieutenant Commander Carol Marcus."

The feminine Vocal Response Matrix of the _Enterprise's_ computer responded after a moment's pause. _*Lt. Commander Marcus is in Research and Development.*_

Jim nodded to himself. "Right…"

Two levels down, then forward, and he was well on his way to the labs. On occasion he passed various crewmembers who were either on duty or heading for the mess hall for their own meal break. But as he approached the doors of the lab, to his surprise, he recognized Carol's voice. She was _singing_, and he could hear the strains of…what on Earth? Jim halted when his ears caught the faint strains of accompaniment. Since when did Carol listen to classical stuff? The voice in Jim's head that muttered _"Fascinating!"_ sotto voce sounded an awful lot like Spock, and he even had to stifle the urge to copy his First Officer's 'Vulcan Eyebrow of Doom', as Bones so bluntly dubbed it._ Weird._

He buzzed in at the door just to see if she'd notice, but apparently no one heard it; the door stayed shut. Jim shrugged and keyed in his access codes. Captain's prerogative and all. As the doors hissed open, Jim gave it more thought. The tune sounded familiar. He wracked his memory, but for once, his genius-level brain didn't offer much help. In fact, it was only after he entered the room that he realized exactly where he'd heard the piece before.

"Is that from Phantom of the Opera?" He murmured to himself. He slowed his stride, intrigued. In fact, he got so caught up in his unexpected glimpse into Carol's private side that he was nearly bowled over by one of the Beta shift lab techs. "Whoa, there!" He reached out to steady the ensign with his usual million-watt smile. "You all right?" Judging from the way the poor woman yelped when she realized _who_ she'd almost knocked over, she was both new and relatively low on the chain. "Y-yes, Captain, sir! I'm sorry about that, si—!"

Jim couldn't help his bemusement. "At ease, Ensign." He _had_ to put a face to the name or it would look bad on the next log entry. "Ensign Lynd, right?"

The woman nodded. She was older than he was, but Jim picked only the best. "Patricia Lynd, sir. I was just g-getting ready to go off-shift."

"I see. Tired of the singing?"

"Not at all." Ensign Lynd shrugged. "She's not bad, really. Most of us have our quirks."

"Ahh. That's certainly true." Jim smiled. He patted her shoulder. "You're free to go, Ensign. Go grab a bite to eat."

Dr. Marcus's station was sequestered in her own special corner of the ship's R&D Lab. Neat but cluttered (as always) was what Jim could see of the countertop assigned to his current person of interest.

When he came around the corner, the ship's most notable addition to the ranks—Dr. Carol Marcus—was swaying in time to the music and humming along; Jim didn't quite recognize the tune. A set of welder's goggles were placed over her eyes, and from what he could see, Carol was completely intent on her work, carefully making adjustments to a busted power cell.

Overcome by an odd swell of emotion, Jim paused when he was only a short distance away and watched her short bob of light blond hair flow in her wake. For the first time, he realized how alone he really was, outside of his beloved crew. His life prior to Starfleet and captaining the _Enterprise_ didn't have much happiness amidst all the crap that was his early childhood; his father's death, his mother's distance, Frank, Ta—_no, don't go there, Jim,_ he thought quickly. _No need to dredge up that mess_.

He shook himself out of his reverie. "I thought you hated opera," he called.

It made Carol jump. She whipped around to face him and yanked her goggles off, almost snapping the strap. "Captain! Y-you startled me."

Oops. Jim flinched. "Sorry."

Her soft smile was sympathetic as she set her tools aside. "Mm, it's perfectly fine," she replied, heaving a quick sigh. "Actually, I believe you caught me going overtime again, James."

Jim gave her a fond (if slightly exasperated) look. "Oh come on, Carol. Just call me Jim!"

"All right then," Carol sighed in good humor, "—Jim." She beckoned him over to a spare stool. "Have a seat if you'd like. I wish I was a better timekeeper, but you know how we scientists are."

Jim stifled a snort of laughter. "Say no more, Doctor Marcus, I know _exactly_ what you mean." He didn't blame her in the least for getting too absorbed in her work. Keeping a starship's weapons running at optimum was a hell of a job, and that was without factoring in her own personal research projects.

"I had my own days of bad time management. When I was back at Starfleet Academy, I remember once I spent four days straight studying for my fractal calculus finals."

Carol blinked. "Four days?"

"Yeah. And that was because I hadn't bothered to do a lick of it before then. I fell asleep on my feet a few seconds after I'd finished the test. Bones still hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"I'm not surprised." She cocked her head to one side. "He's not a 'soft' sort of man, is he?"

"Blame it on his Southern upbringing," Jim replied wryly. "'Thou shalt take no bullshit from idiots' seems to be his personal first commandment, and I'm no exception." Carol laughed. Jim held up the sandwiches. "So… Mind if a maverick Starfleet captain joins you on break?"

"Not at all." Carol cleared a space. When she spotted what he was carrying she did a double-take. "Wait, did you—?" she pointed at the two rolled-up sandwiches, almost hesitating.

"—bring you lunch?" Jim gave her his best devil-may-care grin, and was gratified when she returned it. No matter what, he was more than happy to make a woman smile. "I figured you might be hungry. Here." He handed off one of the sandwiches. "Scotty-approved, fresh from the mess hall. You said you like cheddar-salami subs, right? All the fixings."

Carol cocked her head and shrugged while she unwrapped it. "Not my absolute favorite," she replied, heaving a quick sigh, "but at this point I doubt I'll notice." She took the moment to set her work aside. When she checked the chronometer she looked shocked, before an appreciative smile spread across her face. "It's 1354 already?! I'm certainly glad you stopped by." One bite of her lunch and the sound of enjoyment Carol made a sweet thrill roll down Jim's spine, never mind professional restraint. He was James T. Kirk, and he could appreciate a beautiful woman if he wanted to. Carol Marcus wasn't an exception to the Kirkian Law of Quantum Attraction—not in the slightest. "Mm." She caught a strand of lettuce with her finger. "Oh, yum. I see why they're 'Montgomery Scott' approved. Damn, this is delicious."

Jim couldn't help but catch onto her enthusiasm. "Told you so," he replied, stifling his smile with a bite of his Bolian BLT. He propped his elbows up on the workstation while they ate. Carol took the moment to mute her music before joining him. Jim couldn't help a chuckle to himself while he set aside a stack of rumpled, half-finished notes; Carol was one of those scientists who still used paper and pen, even in the age of 23rd century PADDs, styluses and replicators. Still, he'd noticed she only used paper for her preliminary research notes and a few other relatively mundane tasks like writing supply lists or personal reminders. Therefore, her workstation was strewn with a rather odd combination of technologies: Old-fashioned blueprints, ball point pens, sticky notes and half-finished sketches were scattered there, along with the usual science equipment; a replicator station, various styluses, a tricorder and several reusable PADDs, not to mention her own personal array of scientific instruments and equipment. Jim winced slightly when he bumped his knee against the handle of a medical kit situated under the table.

They spent the next few minutes eating in companionable silence. It was a while later when—feeling curious—Jim reached over and picked up one of the PADDs Carol had left turned on. It displayed an overview schematic of the _Enterprise_, along with a packet of datafiles. He couldn't ascertain its subject at first glance, so he took a closer look and, after exchanging a questioning glance with Carol, opened a few of the files. His interest immediately piqued. It appeared to be a late draft of a proposal regarding the ship's tactical systems, the phaser banks in particular. "So, what's the latest from this corner of the think tank? Got something in mind for our girl?" he asked, setting down the PADD.

"_Our_ girl?" Carol repeated incredulously around a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed and sent a rather sly smirk in his direction. "_Captain_ Kirk," she enunciated primly, "Since when does Starfleet Command allow crews to enter romantic relations with their own starships?"

Jim recoiled in mock offense. "Hey!"

Carol laughed at his overdramatic reaction and reached over to check the PADD he was holding out for her to examine. Her eyes lit up and she exclaimed, "Oh! Oh yes, I remember this! I was going to present this proposal to you at the end of the week, actually."

Setting the PADD aside, Jim folded his arms over his chest and eyed her steadily. "Considering what's just been dropped on our plates, I'm more than happy to hear what you have so far."

"Very well." Carol moved to her workstation projector and keyed in her passcode. The projector arm extended and a moment later Jim was viewing a holographic projection situated above Carol's table. It showed a 3D schematic of the _Enterprise_'s interior layout, sans warp nacelles. Glancing over at his colleague allowed Jim the rare privilege of seeing Carol's face light up in enthusiasm over her newest project. "I've been analyzing the ship's phaser banks and I have an idea on how to improve their output."

"I assume this has something to do with getting rid of the phasers' separate power systems, Lieutenant," Jim remarked, glancing up briefly from peering at the hologram. "Scotty and his teams have complained about those generators for a while." Highlighted in Carol's layout were two of the _Enterprise_'s main systems; the ship's EPS grid and the forward dorsal and ventral phaser banks—two of the six double-emitter banks the _Enterprise_ possessed. It was like the proverbial lightbulb going off in his head. He could glean part of her plan now that he had the basics in front of him.

Carol shook her head. "Er, not quite, though you _are_ close." She pointed out the EPS relays. "Captain, not only am I proposing a better power source; I'm proposing a new _firing method_."

Jim leaned forward. _Interesting is an understatement,_ he thought, but he didn't let his boyish excitable side take the conn just yet. This was about the _Enterprise_, so he had to approach the discussion as the Captain of his ship, not as a friend. "Tell me more."

Carol, meanwhile, busied herself beside him by accessing her terminal. "With the current pulsed phase configuration, regulating phaser power isn't easy." She looked up as she deactivated the projector, and the computer display flickered online. The blue-white hues from the images onscreen illuminated her pale face. "For the past several weeks I've been monitoring the energy variance and each emitter generator's output, and then cross-referencing the results with the rest of the ship's systems. I finished last week, and I discovered this." She pulled up a line graph, and what Jim saw made his brow crease in confusion. The line signifying phaser power usage—while not a "power hog" compared to the absolutely essential systems—looked like a cross-section of an alien mountain range. The variations weren't catastrophically out of balance, but they were definitely uneven enough to be noticeable. Carol's gaze was telling. "All of that constant energy fluctuation isn't exactly a boon for the emitters," she said, shaking her head, "and don't get me started on the power generators. Those operate almost full power when they're fueling the phasers—several gigawatts worth of power _each_, I believe. Furthermore, whenever power is transferred from some of the redundant systems on board to boost the output, it tends to put a lot of strain on the safety buffers. See?" She traced certain areas of the graph with her finger. "That rapid-fire setting wastes a lot of power. There's so many safety regulators operating constantly in order to prevent an overload, and it drains the phasers' overall effectiveness in the long run."

"Yeah, you're right." Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Huh. So that's why they tend to overheat so quickly."

"Exactly! Now, I did have some help from Mr. Scott in arranging this data, of course."

Jim nodded, glad to hear that Scotty was just as invested in this as Carol. "I'm glad—he gets awful prickly about who fiddles around with the ship. You two _are_ getting along, right?"

She smiled. "No worries, Captain. Frankly? He's the best engineer I've ever met. His transwarp beaming equation is amazing!"

"I'll let him know you said that. But..." he paused abruptly as a thought occurred to him. "Wait, if the phaser _pulse_ is so wasteful, why is Starfleet still using it on their ships?"

Shrugging thoughtfully, Carol frowned. "I'm not sure." She nibbled briefly at a small hangnail. "Now, here's what I'm proposing. I believe showing instead of telling will work." She tapped the computer interface and ordered, "Computer, access _Enterprise_ weapons simulation Marcus Four-Two-Gamma and display at my station."

Jim watched, intrigued as the rest of Carol's project took shape in a flurry of electronic files. The centerpiece on screen showed a simulation of the _Enterprise_ firing its forward phaser banks. But instead of a rapid-fire series of quick blasts, Dr. Marcus's calculations came up with—in theory, at least—a long, continuous beam of orange energy that arced straight from the Enterprise to its invisible target, too fast for the human eye to track. Jim also noticed that instead of using power generators, the phaser banks were linked directly to the EPS grid. "This form would draw its power directly from the warp core," Carol explained. "With this sort of configuration, the Enterprise would only require a few redundant safety buffers for the phasers, instead of the numerous monitoring systems they require now. The heat of a continuous phaser beam would escalate gradually instead of constantly fluctuating, like it does here with the pulsed-phase configuration."

"Wow." Jim had to take a moment for it to soak in before he checked Carol's calculations again and let out a low whistle. "This is fine work, Doctor Marcus, _very _well put together. But, uh…" He paused for a moment to think, tapping a finger on the table while he tried to come up with a suitably educated phrase. He was no uneducated farmhand—his IQ had tested well into the 160s—but his Midwestern roots tended to show up in his vocabulary. Putting up with Bones' wealth of cranky metaphors didn't help either. "How is this beneficial to the _Enterprise_ in the long run?" He checked Carol's projections and the cross-references again. "There's not very much difference in overall power output, and from what I can see, this type of firing method does leave us with a bit of a handicap." He pointed it out as he spoke. "If these EPS relays or the warp core are knocked offline, there's no way to charge the phasers."

Carol looked a bit skeptical. "I've seen Engineering, Captain. Mr. Scott's brilliant at holding this ship together, and he's hardly by-the-book. I'm sure he has auxiliary systems in place."

Jim cringed, feeling hesitant. "Still…I'd rather not be at the mercy of a Klingon D7-class with no phasers."

Carol acquiesced. "I'll consult Mr. Scott."

"All right." When Carol turned as if to return to her work—and her lunch—he took the moment to reassure her. "Hey, I really do like the idea, Carol." He met her gaze with all the seriousness he could muster. "It's great! If I can find some time available in the next few days, I'll clear you and we'll have Engineering test your idea, all right?"

"Yes. Thank you, Jim."

For some reason, Jim found himself riveted by the gratitude in her eyes, and it appeared Carol saw something too, because she fell still, staring back. They were still gazing at each other when Jim's communicator chirped and broke the silence. "_Bridge to the Captain._" It was Spock.

Jim fumbled for a moment before he managed to answer. "Kirk here."

"_Captain, we've picked up what might be a distress call. It appears to be coming from a region within our designated search pattern. I am taking us out of warp briefly to conduct a more detailed scan._"

"On my way." Flipping the cover shut, he turned back to Dr. Marcus. "Doctor, I want you to head over to Astrometrics. See if you can help them with getting clearer readings of the area. Point out any anomalies. I'll be on the Bridge. If you find anything you know what to do."

She nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"Good luck."

=/\=

When Jim entered the bridge he half-expected to hear Chekov pipe up with his usual "Keptin on ze bridge!" However, it was Naomi Troi who spoke up instead in her calm, unaccented voice. Uhura was gone. The woman who'd taken her place was the deputy head of communications, Lieutenant Nancy Palmer. Frankly, Jim found Palmer to be more than competent, if not the best xenolinguist. "Status, Miss Palmer?" he inquired quickly.

Lieutenant Palmer got right to the point. "Sir, the distress call came from somewhere in the sector—one of the solar systems, but I'm having trouble isolating the source."

"Can you narrow it down any further?"

"Negative, sir. We managed to pick up the name Constellation, but after that we lost the signal."

_Yes! _Jim stifled the urge to pump a fist in victory. They still had to find the ship itself. Behind him, Sulu spoke up. "Captain? You might want to take a look at this."

"Yes, Mr. Sulu?" Jim strode over and leaned down to speak with the man.

The helmsman looked perplexed as he scanned his console. "We've dropped out of warp within range of System L-370, but I can't pick up evidence of any planets."

Jim frowned, puzzled. "That shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

Ensign Troi spoke up this time. "That's just it, sir," she said. "According to the scans from Starfleet there should be at least seven planets in this system alone."

"Hmm…Spock, what've you got?"

Spock straightened from his current post at sensors, and despite his stoic Vulcan demeanor, Jim could sense his friend was troubled. "Captain, scans indicate that this entire star system has been destroyed. Nothing remains but asteroids and rubble."

The bottom dropped out of Jim's stomach. "What?" he exclaimed. He strode over and checked the readouts himself. "But the star's still intact! Only a nova could do that sort of damage."

Spock was adamant. "Nevertheless, the evidence remains, Captain. Sensors indicate only debris where there were once planets."

Jim clenched his jaw shut and felt his gut sink as he took a seat in the captain's chair. "Mr. Sulu, continue a search pattern. Warp 2, bring shields up to half-strength."

"Aye-aye, sir."

For the next hour the _Enterprise _scoured the Kandari Sector for any further sign of the _Constellation_. More of the same appeared as the ship continued to search; entire systems reduced to rubble, yet no evidence of a stellar event. Further scans showed the subspace interference continued to increase, and by 1437 hours Jim's gut was telling him something very dangerous was lurking in this sector of space.

"Exiting warp. Now entering the outer limits of System L-374, sir," Sulu reported. He clicked his tongue and looked out the viewscreen. "Same as last time. A lot of debris out there."

"Two of the innermost planetoids appear to be intact," Spock observed. "One is Class J, the other Class D. Neither support intelligent life."

Jim hissed through his teeth in worry. "Same evidence of destruction and we haven't found any sign of the _Constellation_…" he muttered. "Decker's not a bad commanding officer. What could've happened to him?"

Lieutenant Palmer suddenly sat bolt upright in her seat. "Sir, I'm getting a Starfleet disaster beacon on subspace emergency channels!"

"Hail them."

The woman paused for a moment and shook her head. "No response, sir. Just the beacon."

Spock spoke up again. "Long-range sensors have detected a starship orbiting between the two innermost planets. It appears to be drifting but its orbit is stable." Jim frowned. "Is it Starfleet?"

"Evidently. However, energy readings are well below normal output parameters."

The overhead address system suddenly beeped indicating an incoming message. "Astrometrics to the Bridge. Captain Kirk?"

Jim sat up. "Dr. Marcus. Have you found something?"

Carol sounded a bit unsettled. "Yes, captain. We've been picking up some intermittent readings that seem to indicate antimatter discharges of some sort. Fairly recent, but this subspace interference is severely limiting our range."

"Keep at it, Doctor. Kirk out." Jim looked over to Sulu. "Approach vector, Mr. Sulu. Three-quarter impulse."

"Aye sir."

The first sign came as a glint of metal amidst the heavy debris fields scattered throughout the sector. Jim got up from his seat as the _Enterprise_ approached to within visual range. "Isolate and magnify." Sure enough, once the readouts had isolated the metallic gleam, he could tell it was the _Constellation_—NCC-1017; he could see the registry number as they drew closer.

Since the _Constellation_ was decidedly older than _Enterprise_, it lacked some of the _Enterprise_'s gracefully sleek lines. Nevertheless, the ship was a close relative of the _Enterprise_ as a Constitution-class cruiser. However, Jim could only tell it was a _Constitution_-class from the configuration of the ship itself. The entire hull of the _Constellation_ was an unholy mess, scorched and pitted. Metal debris and even bodies floated among the wreckage as the crippled ship spiraled slowly through the blackness of space. The starboard edge of the bow had been blown off entirely and two holes gaped in the saucer section. One glance also told them all the main bridge had been rendered utterly useless. One of the _Constellation_'s warp nacelles was charred, practically destroyed altogether. Its twin had lost its bussard collector.

"Whoa. What could've done that?" Sulu wondered.

Jim's jaw clenched. "She was attacked." He moved back to the command chair quickly and opened a shipwide channel. "This is the Captain. Red alert! All hands, man your battle stations!"

The entire bridge stiffened as the _Enterprise_ bristled into red alert status. The klaxons wailed, panels chirped in warning and flashed red, further alarms sounded and sections of the interior lighting throughout the ship shifted to red, blinking steadily in warning of whatever was to come. Up on the bridge, Jim Kirk was absolutely sure something terrible had happened as he began to issue commands to his staff.

"Sulu?"

"All phaser banks fully charged, sir. Torpedo bays are standing by."

"Good. Help Ms. Troi initiate a full sensor scan of the area. Search for any sign of what could've done this."

Next, Jim swiveled to Comms. "Lieutenant?"

"No luck raising them, sir. I have the beacon but the interference is even worse. I can barely make it out."

"Spock, full evaluation on the damage to that ship."

Spock rose. "All power plants offline, reserves operative at minimal power."

"Life support?"

"Also operative at a low power level, Captain." Jim joined Spock as the Vulcan walked around the bridge to gaze out the viewscreen. "Their bridge is severely damaged and uninhabitable."

"Any radiation?"

"Within normal parameters," Spock replied crisply. "The interference has made readings difficult." He paused for a moment before adding, "I am not discounting Dr. Marcus's astrometric scans of the area."

"Good."

"No other vessels in range, sir. Scanners are clear."

Jim nodded. "Stand down Red alert, go to Yellow. All hands, stand by battle stations." He turned to Lieutenant Palmer. "Miss Palmer, have Dr. McCoy, Dr. Marcus, Mr. Scott report to Transporter Room One and assemble a damage control team." He glanced at Spock as he headed for the turbolift. "We're boarding her. Mr. Spock, you're in command."

"Yes, captain."

"Oh, and Spock?" He grinned at his friend when Spock looked over. "Don't scratch her up too bad."

All he got was the customary Raised Eyebrow. Oh well.


	3. Chapter 3: Lone Witness

A/N: As you will note, I did base parts of the dialogue off of the original script by Norman Spinrad, whom I give credit to as the basis for this AOS adaptation. I did do some creative tweaking to fit the 'exuberance' of the AOS, but here's to Mr. Spinrad. Also, thanks yet again to Di the Creator and ThatSassyCaptain for their advice and support. Live Long and Prosper.

**Disclaimer**: I am not the owner of Star Trek or its characters-that honor goes to Paramount, CBS, and the minds behind this timeless series' creation: most notably Mr. Gene Roddenberry, Norman Spinrad and (in recent years) J.J. Abrams.

_And here...we...go._

* * *

><p><strong>Star Trek: Doomsday<strong>

**Chapter 3: Lone Witness**

After a quick discussion in Transporter Room One, Jim had decided the "command half" of the away team—consisting of himself, Dr. McCoy, Scotty, Keenser, and Dr. Marcus—would beam over to the _Constellation_ first. With most of the saucer section rendered inaccessible by multiple hull breaches, they would have to assess the _Constellation _via the saucer "neck" and main engineering, and perform a preliminary assessment. The damage control team would follow them, after a twenty-second delay. They could only guess as to what awaited them.

Jim already knew some of what to expect based on the state of the _Constellation_'s hull, it was still a shock to see the magnitude of damage that USS _Constellation_ had suffered when they materialized on Deck 7's emergency transporters.

Next to him McCoy swallowed so hard Jim heard his throat click. "Holy Lord..." The doctor glanced both ways down the corridor for any sign of life, but the ship was silent and appeared deserted. Carol didn't speak, but Jim heard her inhale sharply.

All those present had survived the near-destruction of the _Enterprise _over a year before. Jim winced as a thought occurred to him: Seeing this kind of carnage was probably bringing back some very unpleasant memories, and _God dammit, Jim, _he could've kicked himself for not remembering it until now. But all of them were Starfleet officers—they were trained for this sort of catastrophe. A damaged starship was often part of the job. In spite of this, Jim had to remind himself to stick to his training while he surveyed the damage, because from Jim's perspective, the USS _Constellation_ was a mess. The corridor the command team had materialized in was about as spick-and-span as a Nausicaan freighter's—in other words, a ruin, with tubes and loose wiring hanging from the ceiling.

Scotty was practically beside himself over the damage done to a proud sister of the _Enterprise_. "Ach, what mangy band o' half-wit arsewipes did all this?!" he groaned sadly, looking around before angrily gritting his teeth. "If I get my hands on 'em I'll boot the bassas out the airlock myself!"

"Mr. Scott…" Jim warned in a weary voice, still caught up in his own problems. His concern at the _Constellation_'s sorry state was definitely niggling at his conscience, and that was without even factoring in his deep-seated uneasiness over the whole damn situation. Something in the back of his mind—probably left over from the Khan/Marcus fiasco—said this whole situation stank to high heaven.

Scotty paid little attention to them as he moved out into the corridor, and went on muttering various curses in Scots Gaelic while he examined the mangled wreckage. What was left of the ship's emergency lighting kept flickering, as if it were about to go out at any moment, and Jim was definitely thankful that life support and grav-plating were still operational at the _very _least. He eyed the damage a bit more closely—apparently, whatever weapon had struck the ship had packed a punch. Wall and ceiling panels had sprung loose. Some were scorched or melted from electrical fires that had been stifled earlier. HE flinched when sparks flew from a broken computer terminal nearby, and there was a definite stench of plasma, ozone and even—he swallowed hard—burnt flesh lingering in the stale air.

In the corner, Scott continued to grumble angrily under his breath until Keenser—to others' amusement—saw fit to pin the _Enterprise_'s Chief Engineer with a soulful Roylan stare. When Scotty noticed, he bristled indignantly. "What're you lookin' at, Keenser?! For God's sake, y'should be just as…" It wasn't long before Scotty's blustering ground to a halt under the alien's silent gaze. "Ach, never mind." Keenser waited until Scott's back was turned before looking to his captain and giving a shrug. _It's a part of who he is, _the gesture implied.

* * *

><p>The command team looked up as the hum of the transporter sounded the arrival of the rest of the away team. The new arrivals immediately whipped out tricorders and tool kits to assess the damage.<p>

While they worked, Jim wandered over to Dr. Marcus. She was busy analyzing some of the data from the Enterprise's Astrometrics Lab to pass the time, since she wasn't needed as a technician. "What the hell could have dealt this kind of damage to a Constitution-class cruiser?" Jim remarked to Carol in an undertone. "We can't even access most of the forward section."

Carol bit her lip and continued her work. "I don't know, sir. Just that it—whatever 'it' is—is firing some sort of antimatter, and is able to destroy entire planets." A wan smile crossed her lips as she finished her notes and set the PADD aside. "Comforting, isn't it?"

Jim grunted. "Comforting wasn't the word I had in mind."

"More like terrifyin'," Bones added with his best worried scowl.

While Jim paced and Bones did his best to be cordially grumpy, Carol and Scotty began going about their business with the away team. "Radiation levels are normal," Carol reported. "Atmosphere is slightly below standard levels, currently holding at...99.624 kilopascals." She looked to one of the engineering crewmen. "Crewman Washburn, some assistance please?"

"Yes Doctor?"

"Can you tell me the status of life support in this section?"

"Well, Atmospheric Filtration is shut down," Washburn reported, "but we should be able to reactivate it from Main Engineering."

McCoy let out a hearty harrumph. "Well, that sure as hell explains why the air in here's staler 'n my great-grandma's teeth."

Jim screwed up his face in disgust at the image his brain provided—McCoy's great-grandmother was at LEAST twelve years dead and gone. From what Bones had told him, she'd been a sour lemon well before that, and had bought the plantation (pardon the expression) with only three teeth left. _Eurgh. _"WAY too much information, Bones."

McCoy shot him a look. "Well, you _asked_."

Engineering Crewman Dal Eves—a female Bajoran—was busy checking a terminal down the port corridor. "Looks like communications are dead, too, sir. Whatever attacked this ship shorted out the entire onboard network, subspace interference aside."

Jim fought back a curse. "So we're stuck with our communicators. Wonderful."

Scotty made a face and shrugged. "Maybe, but t'is better than nothin', Captain. Oi! Keenser, hand me that hyperspanner, will ya? Tha's a lad."

The Scotsman was just about to dig into the transporters when a thought occurred to Jim. "Actually, Scotty, why don't you go check things in Engineering?" he said, then looked to the science officer. "Dr. Marcus, you try and find the weapons center. See if they've been fired recently. At least we'll figure out if the crew put up a fight. Bones, you're with me."

"Aye, Captain. Come along, you lot."

Scotty, Carol and their team left via one of the Jeffries tubes while Jim headed off into the bowels of the ship. Bones followed, grumbling as he went. "Great. Here's hopin' somebody's still alive on this godforsaken tin can."

Down in the _Constellation_'s engineering section, things weren't much better. "What a mess," one of the damage control team remarked with a grimace, looking around at the twisted wreckage of catwalks and piping. Water from the warp core cooling pipes—and Scotty had rather uncomfortable memories of the _Enterprise_'s cooling pipes in particular—lay in great big puddles on the floor, littered with broken components.

"What do you think did all this, sir?" Mr. Washburn remarked.

Scott traded a glance with Keenser, who simply shrugged. "I dunno, lad," Scotty replied quickly, "But I want a full structural and damage control check. I'm gonna have a look at those engines." He stopped. "Actually…" he pulled out his communicator. "Scott tae Doctor Marcus."

"Yes, Mr. Scott?"

Scotty paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "D'ye mind comin' doo'n here to take a look at the warp core, lass once ye're done? The warp coils are both hopeless piles o' scrap—no surprise there—but summat's right screwy with the dilithium matrix. Fig're out what's buggered it. I'm goin' up t' take a look at the impulse drive 'n see what I can do. Keenser'll help ya."

"Of course. I'll be right down, Mr. Scott."

Scotty smiled. "Aye, ye're a Godsend f'r all of us, Missy. The captain knows talent when he sees it. Glad you're with us."

Carol's smile could be heard clearly even through the communicator. "As am I. Thank you, Mr. Scott."

"Anytime, lass. Scott out."

* * *

><p>Up top, Jim and McCoy had begun their search of the <em>Constellation<em>'s accessible rooms. It quickly became apparent to them both that not only were most rooms inaccessible, but whatever had happened had definitely NOT happened without warning. Not one room so far had turned up any survivors or bodies. The ship was all but deserted.

"What'd'you suppose could've happened?" Jim asked the doctor, glancing at McCoy as they examined the only accessible crewman's lounge. "There's no clutter here, nothing."

McCoy nodded. He was busy rubbing his chin, standing to one side in his usual deep-thinking pose. "Not even a spilled cup of that god-awful swill Starfleet calls coffee," the doctor remarked under his breath. Then he gave a jolt and yelped. "Ow!" Jim had thwacked him in the arm.

"Come on, you drink plenty of the stuff, Bones; don't be a hypocrite!"

While McCoy grumbled to himself, Jim rolled his shoulders to ease out a kink in his neck, then stepped back a pace and surveyed the room with his hands on his hips. He gnawed his lower lip in silence while Bones eyed him. To Bones, it was clear the captain was having a moment he was quickly garnering fame for—the "lightning storm in space" moment Admiral Pike had called it once, when his brain started stringing clues together at Warp Ten. Sure enough, Jim's eyes lit up and he whirled to regard Bones with wide eyes. "Wait a minute. Wait. I bet whatever happened, it didn't happen without warning. No, they were fighting something. This wasn't a surprise."

"What, then? Think there they abducted by aliens or somethin', Captain?" Bones wondered in his best sardonic drawl.

Jim snorted but shook his head. "Nahh, they weren't abducted. They just left."

The doctor's look of annoyed confusion was typical. "Well then why the hell would a crew of over four hundred just up 'n leave a _Constitution_-class starship to drift in space? Besides the fact that this ship's been turned into a trash heap, _sir,_" he added at Jim's flat look.

Jim frowned. "I dunno. Let's ask Spock." He opened his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"_Spock here, Captain." _

"No sign of survivors, Spock. No bodies either. The ship's deserted. Got any ideas?"

"_I would require a more developed hypothesis, Captain."_

Jim blinked and fumbled for a reply. "Well, could the crew have beamed down to one of the two remaining planets?"

On board the _Enterprise_, Spock's eyebrow rose in a Vulcan expression of contemplation. "Improbable, Captain. Due to its close orbital proximity to the star, the surface temperature of the innermost planet is that of molten lead. The outer planet's atmosphere is one inhospitable to human life: a highly toxic carbon dioxide/nitrogen atmosphere similar to the Sol system's planet Venus."

"All right. We'll continue our search. Kirk out." Jim flipped the communicator shut and traded a glance with Dr. McCoy. "Time for some answers. Let's go find Scotty."

"And your maybe-girlfriend," Bones muttered, smirking to himself.

Jim's eyes widened despite himself and rounded on McCoy in bewilderment. "Wha-?" Then he caught himself and waved off the idea. "Nooo, no, come on! It's not like that."

Bones clicked his tongue knowingly and grinned at his best friend. "Uhh-huh. Suuure, keep tellin' y'self that. Admit it, Jimmy. You like her."

"Weeeelll…" Jim knew he was wheedling, and Starfleet Captains did not wheedle. "…Maybe a _little_." He cringed when his best friend's knowing smirk only grew wider. He was quick to try and dispel the idea obviously floating in Bones' head. "A-anyway, like I said; Carol's a _friend._ And NO, I'm not planning on sleeping with her! I'm past that!" he exclaimed.

Bones coughed—it sounded suspiciously like a laugh—and Jim bypassed pink and blushed deep red. "Ahh, quit it, Len, or I'll order you to as captain of the _Enterprise_—"

"No, y' won't. You're the _Enterprise_'s ingenious idiot, Jimmy," Bones interjected. "We all know that. Me better'n most. God knows I patch your skinny ass up often enough." His gaze was light with his usual gruff humor, but his face was set in a serious expression as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "All this denial makes you look like crap on a cracker, y'know?"

Jim ignored him as they left the room and headed back to the transport site. The acerbic attitude was just par for the course when it came to Leonard "Bones" McCoy, but damn if it didn't grate on him at times. "I'm not in denial, Bones! I just can't! She's part of my crew," he went on, saying the last bit mostly to himself. He schooled his nerves before halting in the middle of the corridor. "Look. I'm not about to cause trouble on board by having what could pretty much amount to a fling with one of my best science officers." Bones nodded. "Now, I want this to stay between us, is that clear, Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard frowned but acquiesced. "Yes, sir."

Jim nodded. "Thanks." He patted his friend on the shoulder. "I _do_ appreciate the discretion, you know."

"Anytime, kid. Doctor-patient confidentiality, the whole nine yards. Though this is more like I'm a God-fearin' priest sitting pretty in the confessional."

Jim snickered and stood there for a moment longer while he stared off into space contemplating what could be. Then he started to grin to himself, and Bones' look of long-suffering exasperation was the perfect foil to his own shit-eating grin. "Not that she's bad company or anything," he mused out loud. "What d'you think of her, Bones?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Dammit man, I'm a doctor, not a relationship counselor!"

* * *

><p>About forty-five minutes later, the command team convened in the emergency transporter room, leaving the damage control teams to their work. Mr. Scott looked frustrated but slightly pleased, while Carol was agitated, busy studying the readings on her tricorder.<p>

Jim clapped his hands and rubbed them together. His expression and stance bled an oddly serious eagerness. "So, what've we got? Mr. Scott, your report?"

"Aye captain." Scotty frowned. "Keenser 'n I took a look at the engines. The warp drive's trashed, sir; t'is a hopeless pile o' junk, but impulse isn't too badly off. I oughta be able to do somethin' with 'em after a little tinkerin' aroo'nd."

"Commander Marcus, what about weapons? Anything on the phasers or the torpedo bays?" Jim looked over to Carol for the information. Carol straightened immediately—she was all business. "The ship's complement of photon torpedoes has been depleted, Captain. None left. The phasers are all but exhausted." She shrugged helplessly. "Whatever happened, the crew didn't give up without a damn good fight."

"But where are they?" Jim wondered as he began pacing. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I remember Matt Decker pretty well—he's not someone who'd abandon his ship while life support's still operative. Wish we had some record of what happened."

"Well, f'r all intents n' purposes, sir, the ship's computer core's still functional," Scotty remarked, hesitating sheepishly before amending, "barely." Then he brightened and he snapped his fingers. "Oi, hold th' comm—I'll bet Decker has a duplicate of his command logs in there somewher's!" He looked to Jim eagerly. "We should be able tae play it back from Auxiliary Control."

Jim grinned and gestured out the door without further ado. "Lead the way, Mr. Scott."

Scotty bustled out the door, but as Jim followed the chief engineer he felt a hand drop onto his arm. "Captain Kirk?" It was Carol, and she wore a very anxious expression. "I can't help but worry about the ship," she murmured.

"The _Constellation_?" Jim asked as they continued down the corridor.

"No, the _Enterprise_." She halted and turned to him, heaving a short sigh. "Captain, with your permission I'd like to apply the beamed phase configuration to the _Enterprise_'s forward phasers."

Shifting, Jim folded his arms. "How soon?"

"As soon as possible."

Jim raised both eyebrows. "Eager to try those things out, eh, Doc?"

Carol shook her head, though she did smile a little at his attempt at levity. "No—I'm worried we'll need them," she replied softly. _I see, _Jim realized. _Upping the defenses. Well, I can't argue with that. _"I've done all the necessary calculations and ran simulations of the setting on a hand phaser just two hours ago; it's just a matter of application."

Jim took a moment to consider his options. He _needed_ her expertise on board the _Constellation _right now. Carol was the only one who fully understood the intricacies of the advanced quantum physics currently in play in the sector. If he sent her back to the _Enterprise_ and shit happened to hit the fan, the away team would be without a science officer. But if he sent one of the others…

"I can't send you back there right now, Doctor Marcus," he said after a moment's thought, "but how about sending Lieutenant Keenser back over? He'll know what to do once he's got the template."

"Keenser?" Carol blinked. "Hmm. A fine choice, captain. He's rather fun to work with." She commed the Roylan engineer and—after granting him access to the research, which gathered a typical single-word reply from the little fellow through the communicator—she smiled over at him. "Thank you so much, Captain."

"Anytime," he replied, before glancing up and realizing they were alone but for Dr. McCoy, who was standing at an intersection, frowning impatiently. "Hey," he said, then tugged her along as he broke into a quick trot down the corridor. "Let's catch up to Scotty and make sure he's not getting into any trouble."

Bones fell in alongside. "Wooing the lady, now are we?" he teased in a southerner's-sugar-and-gravel undertone so Carol didn't overhear.

"Shut up, Bones."

* * *

><p>They had almost made it to the Auxiliary Bridge when a shout rang out from up ahead. "Oi, CAPTAIN!"<p>

"Scotty?!" Jim jolted and broke into a run, followed by the others. They burst into Auxiliary Control to find Scotty hunched over a lone survivor who lay motionless at the ship's auxiliary flight controls. The soot-stained gold shirt coupled with the rank circlets sewn on the cuffs told Jim it could only be one person.

"It's Matt." He breathed a sigh of relief and silently thanked whatever consciousness ruled the universe for sparing his old Academy companion.

"The Commodore? Matt Decker?" Scotty blanched, staring at Commodore Decker in bewilderment. "What'n the bleedin' hell is he doin' doo'n here?!"

Jim ignored the question and gripped his old acquaintance's shoulder and shook him a few times. "Matt. Matt! You okay? It's Jim, Jim Kirk."

Decker only groaned sluggishly. It wasn't enough for Jim just yet.

"Commodore Decker?" Bones hustled over wearing a look of stormy consternation and wielding a hypospray. After scanning the commodore, he hissed a mild curse and pulled out a tubule of corticostimulant from his medical kit. After calculating the dose Bones reached around and pressed the hypo against the officer's jugular vein. "Jim, cool your warp coils, dammit and let the man breathe!" the doctor snapped when Jim didn't stop shaking the man afterward.

Jim halted his attempt for the moment. "Matt!" he demanded. This time the Commodore stirred and struggled to sit up in his seat. Jim and Bones helped him sit up. Jim kept him balanced until Decker's bleary gray eyes met his own blazing blue ones.

"J…Jim?" Decker's voice was thick and raspy and sounded hoarse. He blinked, then nodded to himself as he was settled backwards into the chair by Jim and McCoy's guiding hands. "Kirk…i's Jim Kirk." A faint ghost of a smile flickered across the older man's stubble-darkened features before vanishing as the man took in the aftermath of battle around him.

"Matt, what happened? What happened to your ship?" Jim demanded as urgently as he could, leaning closer.

"Jim, he's still coming around. Give 'im some space!" Bones hissed from behind him, but Jim wasn't the sort to be deterred. Whatever was out there hadn't gone far, not with two planetoids left to crush to powder. He'd bet his left boot and the _Enterprise_'s deuterium reserves on it.

"R-Right…a-a ship—attacked us." Decker mumbled. His head wobbled on his shoulders like a bobblehead with a broken spring as he looked around, appearing utterly bewildered. "That—that thing_." _He abruptly went rigid and attempted to sit up straight while his widened eyes stared transfixed in a sort of remembered horror on the inactive viewscreen on the far wall.

"Thing—?" Jim wondered. His chest tightened at the sight of the near-panic in Matt Decker's gaze. "What thing? Matt, what was it?!" He was almost shouting by now, and he shook Matt's shoulders again. In the back of his mind Jim could sense the others hovering around him, but dismissed their presence for the moment while he tried to get Decker to be a little more cognizant. So far, it wasn't doing too much good, but his old classmate was obviously trying. However, Decker's dazed state made him incredibly unstable on the emotional level.

With an agonizing amount of effort, the Commodore attempted to speak, but he struggled with simply forming the first word, and in the end he choked after barely uttering, "That—!"As Jim tried to steady him, he realized Decker was trembling—shaking. He stared wordlessly at nothing, and an alarming rictus of horror and grief suddenly crumpled the features of his face, rendering the commodore speechless.

Bones' temper finally snapped and the curmudgeonly country doctor stepped forward to bat Jim's hands away from Decker. "Blast it Jim, he's in shock! Give 'im a minute before you give the man a seizure!" Jim let go of his former classmate and Decker, exhausted, let his head rest against the console while he tried to collect his wits. Ever the mother hen, Bones leaned over Decker's shoulder to administer a mild sedative and waved Jim off. "Go on, shoo."

"Sir!" Scotty piped up quietly from his place at an adjacent station. "I've got the duplicate logs for ye, sir."

Jim nodded. "Go ahead, Mr. Scott. Play the Commodore's last entry."

They all listened to the commodore's voice as Scotty played back the recording. Decker sounded much steadier in the log entry than he was at present, but he did seem rather troubled by the subject he was reporting. "_Captain's Log, Stardate 2261.83. We've encountered a swath of destroyed solar systems since our arrival in the Kandari Sector. System L-370 has been wiped out entirely. Exceptional levels of subspace interference have been preventing all but the briefest periods of contact with Starfleet Command, the last of which was last week. I only hope we find the cause. In the meantime, we're approaching system L-374. My science officer has informed me that the fourth planet seems to be breaking up. We're going in to investigate." _

"The fourth planet?" Jim wondered after the recording ended. "There's only two left." He looked to Carol and Scotty. "Scotty…" he stood for a moment while he gathered his ideas into a plan that wouldn't get anybody in dire straits. "Here's what we'll do; I want you and Dr. Marcus to pull the sensor logs from the computer and transmit them to _Enterprise_. We need to know _exactly_ what happened to those planets and how."

"Aye sir."

A pat on his sleeve brought Jim's attention around and he looked down at Decker. The older man seemed to have regained control of his wild emotions to a degree, but he still appeared to be in a quasi-stunned stupor as he regarded the younger captain, his brow creased in confusion and concern. "W-we tried to contact Starfleet Command when we arrived. No one heard," he said, rambling on desperately without waiting for an answer. "_No one!_ Hell, we couldn't run! Once we saw it, the thing was right on top of us!" The fear in Decker's voice was so razor sharp it made his voice crack again.

Jim did his best to focus on the bigger picture—he hated to do this when his old friend was in such a sorry state, but he had Decker here, now; they had to figure out what happened to the rest of the crew. He bent slightly to look Matt squarely in the eye. "Matt, focus. What about your crew?"

Decker shrugged. It was a pathetically helpless gesture. "I beamed them out, Jim. Warp core was wrecked in the first attack! We were dead in space. Our phasers were useless." He gave an almost derisive snort at Jim's unspoken question, and after running both hands down his face he went on, voice wobbling as he continued. "I stayed behind, of course. The Captain's the last man, the last officer to leave the ship. That's Starfleet protocol, isn't it?" he inquired, and when Jim nodded he flung one arm out in a half-hearted dismissive after a moment's contemplation. "Anyway, then it came round and hit again, and next thing I know the transporters are fried. They're down there and I'm stuck up here."

"Matt, _what _hit? What attacked you?" Frustration was the mother of faulty debriefings, but Jim couldn't stifle the worst of it; not entirely. The commodore was verbally running around in circles like some kind of headless chicken and he needed more than just "thing" as a description.

Decker's face crumpled again in utter anguish, and a dark look passed over his face "They say there's no Devil, Jim," he muttered. He started trembling again and carded a hand through his graying hair. "B-but there is, and i-it's out there, r-right now,"—he was stammering now—"_stalking_ us! R-Right outta hell, I s-saw it!" he choked. By now the commodore was practically sobbing with the ghosts of fright still haunting him; his whole frame rocked with shudders of terror as he brought one hand up to grasp at thin air. It was as if the man was trying to prove to himself that what he'd seen wasn't just a nightmare. Finally, he ran out of steam and let his hand fall.

Jim closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, doing his best to re-compartmentalize his own worst memories. Not only that, but he found himself stemming a rather childish urge to just reach over and bitch-slap the man across the face to see if it would knock some sense back into him. "Matt, where are they?" he demanded, placing both hands on Decker's biceps to steady him and carefully enunciating each word. "Where is your crew?"

Decker shook harder and Jim eased back. He had this horrible sense of dread at what he was about to hear, but what choice did they have? Arms stiffened and braced against the console, Decker's voice grew tight, coming from the back of his throat. "They're on the third planet," he managed at last.

Jim felt his heart twist. "There IS no third planet!" he exclaimed, without thinking.

As it turns out, it was the wrong thing to say. Decker's eyes flashed up at the younger man in outrage and Jim flinched._ Me and my big mouth._ "Don't you think I know that?!" the commodore growled, but the anger quickly gave way to half-stifled sobs as he gestured vehemently at the viewscreen and cried, "There was, but not anymore!"

The others in the room had stopped what they were doing and were listening in part horror, part sympathy as the commodore's grief grew to almost tangible levels, a miasma of churning sorrow that seemed to emanate not only from Decker, but from the very ship itself. Out of the corner of his eye Jim noticed Carol had pressed the backs of her knuckles to her lips in an attempt to stifle a sob, and Bones? Well, the doctor's constant storm of cantankerously protective _grump_ wasn't focused on anything at the moment. He seemed lost to his own ruminations, but was just as heart-wrenchingly captivated as everyone else as the Commodore lost all emotional control. "They called me, Jim. I _heard_ them! They begged," he wailed, "_begged_ me to help them! I tried to—f-four hundred of 'em!" Finally it became too much for the exhausted man and he collapsed and buried his head in his hands. "But I, I…I couldn't…I c-couldn't…!" Utterly spent, Matt Decker broke down completely and wept over the loss of his entire crew.

Jim gave him the space he needed, swallowing hard to stem the tide of bitter guilt welling up in his throat. Dr. McCoy had the presence of mind to put a consoling hand on Jim's shoulder as he passed by, before turning to tend to his patient.

Meanwhile, Jim tossed aside a loose chunk of debris and picked his way through the mess to the central computer terminals set in the wall at the back of the room. Scotty and Carol were busy transferring the _Constellation_'s sensor logs onto Type 1 isolinear data sticks, then beaming each set to the_ Enterprise_ with a portable transporter the Chief Engineer had constructed himself. "You heard all that?" he inquired, keeping his voice low.

Scotty looked over. He kept his silence for a moment and his Adam's apple bobbed in a hard swallow. "…Aye sir." The Scotsman shook his head. "Righ' terrible thing, this is. M' prayers are with the man." He perked up just a bit and turned to Carol, doing his best to deflect the conversation towards less-sensitive topics for now. "Er, b'fore we get back tae work, sir, Dr. Marcus has the damage control team's report for ya." Carol nodded once and picked up her PADD, and Jim turned his attention to her.

"Washburn and his team have made a full structural and control damage assessment. They aren't entirely certain, but whatever damaged this ship did so with enough power to completely breach through the shields and fry the generators simultaneously." Carol was every bit the consummate Starfleet science officer as she reported, keeping a lid on her own emotions in the meantime. He had a pretty good guess when and where she'd had to develop her mask of professionalism, though, and the memories of the USS Vengeance's bridge were decidedly not pleasant, even for someone with as much tragedy in his past as James T. Kirk. "Also, captain…" Carol frowned, consulting her PADD for a moment while she accessed a datafile. "When I examined the warp drive, I discovered the following..." She pulled up a chart detailing the _Constellation_'s warp drive and a schematic of the core and the nacelles. Both the coils and the drive were highlighted in red. "All antimatter on board has been rendered inert—the level of subspace interference managed to deactivate the entire warp drive once the _Constellation_'s shields were lost. There's no matter/antimatter reaction to initialize warp drive, even if we were to realign the core. The only thing running this vessel are the emergency reactors."

Jim's eyebrows shot towards his hairline and he felt another shudder of dread run talons down his back. "Deactivated?" he repeated. "Scotty, could some kind of broad-spectrum dampening field do that, coupled with whatever it uses for weaponry?"

Scotty shifted back and forth in thought, staring off into space before finally giving a nod. "Aye, tha' all adds up, sir. But what kinda thing could do all o' tha' in just a few passes?"

Apparently, Decker had been listening in while McCoy worked, because he turned in his seat to snap at them. "Oh come on now!" he sneered. "Jim, if you'd been here to see the damn thing, you'd know. The whole thing's a weapon end to end, it's got to be!"

When McCoy glowered at him and told him, "Sir, with all due respect, shut your yap and let me work, dammit!" Decker returned the scowl before sighing and allowing the doctor to continue tending to his bruises.

Jim on the other hand was intrigued. "What's this 'thing' look like, Commodore?" he asked, striding over with Carol at his side. He and Dr. Marcus shared a silent conversation in one quick glance. If this object _was_ a weapon, this was her field of expertise.

Decker snorted. "Simple. I guess the best analogy is, well..." he rubbed his jaw. "It looks like a giant wind sock in space, only a hell of a lot bigger and made out of metal. It's at least two kilometers long; _huge,_ with a great big flaming maw at one end that could swallow both our ships in one go! Maybe even a dozen. It _destroys_ planets, Jim—chops 'em into rubble!" He shuddered to himself; the idea of it was a recollection he obviously hated.

Carol made a face at the odd comparison. "A giant metal wind sock in space?" She and Jim shared another look.

"Now I've heard everything," Jim remarked offhand, before returning his attention to the Commodore. "So what is it, a ship? An alien ship? Or is it alive or—?"

Decker butted in with, "Both—or neither." He scoffed and waved the idea off. "Ahh, I don't know."

Rubbing his neck in frustration, Jim felt a vein pulse in his temple as he frowned at the man. _Seriously, Matt? You're pulling this crap again? _This was why he hadn't quite befriended Decker to the extent he had McCoy and Spock—he was blunt like Bones, but at the worst possible time and in the worst possible way. Worse, he had the feeling the rank of Commodore had gone to his older classmate's head. Only a tad, but it was definitely noticeable. He sighed. "Okaaaayyyyy…let's try this again. Matt, your logs said the fourth planet was breaking up and you were going in to investigate. What did you see?"

Decker frowned as he reflected on the past few days. "Well, we arrived and saw this thing hovering over the planet. It wasn't orbiting it, either, it was maintaining a…" He tapped the console in thought before the best term occurred to him. "…a solar-synchronous orbit, and slicing huge chunks out of the planet with some sort of energy beam."

"You ran scans?" Carol piped up.

"We did."

"And…?"

"Pure anti-proton," Decker declared resolutely, adding an emphasizing sweep of his hand. "_Absolutely _pure."

Carol's eyes went wide and she blanched. "Good lord," she gasped, and looked at her captain. "Anything caught in that beam's path would just…" She was about to continue, but Decker interjected.

"—burn up," he finished rudely, aiming a sharp glare at her. "How the hell do you think my ship got torn apart?"

Jim jumped in when Carol flushed pink in embarrassment. "Now, take it easy Decker. Don't take it out on my crew."

Chastised, the commodore winced at his own blunder. He shifted in his chair and looked the weapons physicist up and down once. "You're Alex's daughter, right? Carol?" When she nodded, Decker's lips thinned in sympathy. "My condolences about that nasty business last year. Wish I'd seen how far gone he was a lot sooner."

Carol swallowed while Jim worked his jaw in irritation. He'd instantly caught sight of the deeply buried pain in her eyes._ Matt, I know you mean well, but quit ripping open old wounds,_ he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Finally, Carol managed to reply, "Thank you, Commodore Decker."

Decker made an apologetic face. "And I, uh…I _am_ sorry I snapped at you, Doctor. It's a bit of a personal flaw of mine. I've been trying to correct it for a while now."

Though she did hesitate again, Carol managed a faint smile this time. "Apology appreciated, sir."

Decker smiled, but it was a sad one.

Jim's communicator buzzed and he stepped back, pulling the device from his pocket.

"Kirk here."

"Captain." It was Spock (of course.) "Continued attempts to reach Starfleet Command have been unsuccessful due to continuation of heavy subspace interference," the first officer reported in his typically neutral tones. "Furthermore, Stellar Cartography and Astrometrics report the interference appears to be worsening, by a rate of .4% every five point seven minutes. Lt. Palmer is attempting to rectify the problem but is having limited success."

"Have you checked the _Constellation_'s sensor logs?"

Onboard the _Enterprise_, Spock shifted minutely in the command chair. "Affirmative, captain. Based on the scans taken of this…planet killer," Spock paused momentarily to nominate a phrase suited to the creation responsible for these disasters, "It appears that the USS _Constellation_ was accosted by an artificially intelligent machine."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "A robot?"

"Yes. An automated weapon of immense size and power." As the Vulcan continued, Jim detected the faintest of shifts in Spock's tone that suggested…unease. "Its apparent function is fairly simple; to destroy planetary bodies, then ingest and process the resulting debris for fuel. Therefore, it is only logical to believe it is a self-sustaining construct, so long as there are planets for it to 'feed' on."

Jim ducked his head to one side in realization. Unbidden, he saw in his mind's eye a sandy orb hanging in space, swiftly collapsing in on itself to the imagined death cries of billions. He tasted bile in the back of his throat as he remembered it—the destruction of Vulcan. The loss of millions if not billions of innocent lives as well as one of its founding planets had rocked the entire Federation to its core. It was clear Spock saw the similarities as well, because when he spoke again his voice had softened considerably and gained a minute edge of buried anguish. "Such a purpose—as I am sure you're aware, Captain—directly parallels that of Nero's use of red matter to destroy my home planet."

"I know. But…a robotic weapon that destroys entire solar systems on purpose?" Jim exclaimed as he started to pace back and forth. "Why would somebody build such a thing?"

Damn it, he could almost _hear _Spock's rising eyebrow. "Unknown. However, Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Troi have calculated the path of the machine by utilizing the _Enterprise_'s long-range sensors, using similarly destroyed systems as a basis for plotting its previous course. The stellar cartography department has since determined the following; the machine came from _outside_ our galaxy, perhaps the Andromeda galaxy."

"I see." Jim hated to ask, but he went ahead and did it anyway. "Spock, what's the projected course of this thing should it keep going?"

Spock was silent for so long Jim had to repeat his name to get a reply. When he did, Spock actually sounded unsettled—an extremely rare occurrence. "If it continues on its present course," he said, choosing his words carefully, "it will decimate the most densely populated section of the Alpha Quadrant."

"_Shit." _Jim swore under his breath, then did so again—in Klingon, Andorian, Orion _and_ Denobulan. This was bad. This was shit-hit-the-fan bad. Klingon-Invasion-of-Sector-001 bad. He bit back any further curses and contained them to his head before replying. "Thank you for informing me, Mr. Spock. Stand by and maintain Yellow Alert status. Kirk out."

Upon flipping the communicator shut with a flick of his wrist, Jim looked up to find Bones standing nearby. The doctor's expression said it all. "You look like I feel," Jim remarked.

Bones pursed his lips before breaking out in a brief humorless grin. "Ain't that the truth." He frowned at the captain. "But in all seriousness, Jim—a robot? A machine like that? Who in tarnation would build something like that?"

"Hell if I know," Jim replied as he began pacing. "Probably an alien race from the Andromeda galaxy."

Bones' angry eyebrows turned into bewildered eyebrows. "Why?"

Jim didn't answer for a moment while he wracked his memory for a good analogy the doctor would get. "You ever heard of something called a 'doomsday machine,' Bones?"

Bones scowled. "No, I'm a doctor, not a mechanic—or a historian, for that matter."

Jim knew his voice had darkened considerably but he didn't give two shits or a damn about it. "It's a weapon, Bones. A weapon built as a bluff. Something so overpowered and so dangerous it's never meant to be used in the first place. Just the threat of its existence is usually enough."

Bones nodded. "It would destroy everything in a war no matter which side it was built by. Damn."

In spite of the situation Jim knew his lips had curled grimly at how easily his best friend caught on. "Pretty much. And that's what I think this is, Bones—a 'doomsday machine' some alien race built for their interstellar war a long, long time ago. Probably a cold war of some sort." He swore again to himself. "Well, the builders aren't around anymore, but their fuck-all planet killer sure is, and it's still destroying anything that registers larger than an asteroid."

By now, Decker had regained most of his emotional control, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes when he got up from his seat. "Doggone it all, Kirk, enough with the theories!" he barked. "We know it's a weapon! Worse, we know it's headed straight for the heart of the Alpha Quadrant. I'm not gonna just sit around and let that thing chew up trillions of innocent people, so here's my take on it."

He strode over to Jim and got close, almost in his face. Jim kept his face as close to a Vulcan's impassivity as he could manage, but he knew he was frowning slightly at his old friend. Not all was well with Decker and he could tell the older man knew it—there was a slightly crazed flinty look in the man's grey eyes as they narrowed into questioning slits. Decker tilted his head to one side to emphasize his query he had. "I got one question for you, Captain Kirk," he demanded, emphasizing Jim's rank with a poke to Jim's chest. "What are you and your maverick crew gonna do about it?!"

"Now just take it easy, Commodore Decker," McCoy butted in, his southern accent bleeding through clearer and clearer. "First thing on the list right now is gettin' y'all back onboard _Enterprise_."

He put a hand on Decker's shoulder but the Commodore batted it away and rounded on Dr. McCoy with a warning glare. "Ohhh, no you don't, Dr. McCoy," he ordered. "I stay _right_ here; I'm NOT leaving my ship!"

By now the commodore was redder than a Ferengi with an aneurysm and looked fit to be tied if one of the _Enterprise_ crew didn't intervene. For a moment, Jim entertained the notion that Decker was just blowing the whole shebang about leaving the _Constellation_ out of proportion…at least until he reflected on his own attachment to the _Enterprise_. Nevertheless, it was his duty as a Starfleet captain to head off and prevent conflict between starship crews if and when possible, _especially_ Starfleet crews.

Jim kept doing his best not to provoke his old classmate's wrath. Decker WAS a Commodore—a full rank above Captain—but he knew one thing about Decker; he responded best to cold, hard fact. "Look around you, sir. There's not exactly a ship to leave! She's all but a dead hulk now." He sighed. "We'll tow her to the nearest Starbase if we have to. Scotty, Carol and I will stay onboard and get her ready. Count on it. In the meantime I want you to go back to _Enterprise_ and get yourself checked into Sickbay by the good doctor here." Bones failed to stifle a grin. "I speak from personal experience here, Commodore," Jim added when Decker's look soured, "_don't_ try and avoid a checkup. Just…don't."

Finally, Decker's smile was genuinely amused. "No, no, I've heard all about Doctor McCoy and how he loves to terrorize patients into cooperating with 'im." He and Bones eyed each other. "I know I've been testy to you all. It's…it's just that I've never lost a command before." He looked downcast again.

"Even coming close isn't a picnic, sir," Jim replied, recalling Khan. He was about to speak further when the whole command team's communicators suddenly blared to life. "_Enterprise_ to away team. Red Alert."

"Spock, what's going on?"

Red alert klaxons could be heard faintly through the communicator's audio link as Spock explained. "Long range sensors have detected a large unknown object closing in on our current position, Captain."

Jim bristled. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't coming for coffee. "Copy that, Mr. Spock," he replied. The whole room had fallen deathly still as Jim barked orders. "Kirk to Transporter Room One—beam over Doctor McCoy and Commodore Decker immediately!" The best option for now was to stick to the plan. Spock could handle running the _Enterprise_ for now. "Mr. Spock, I want you to try and draw the thing away while we try and get this vessel ready for towing. Get my ship out of here—make maximum impulse, but don't go too far. Push those new engines as hard as you have to." He nodded to Commodore Decker and Dr. McCoy seconds before the two men vanished in twin whirls of light. "Dr. Marcus, Scotty, do what you can—I want engines, phasers, _something_; get this wreck functional somehow, I don't care how."

"Captain—"

"Spock, I'm a little busy right now."

"_Captain._" Spock interjected, and were someone to have asked, Jim would've sworn up and down and by his father's grave that (for the first time in his life,) his first officer actually sounded _afraid_. "Details indicates the object approaching is the same 'planet killer' that attacked the _Constellation_."

Instantly realizing the implications, James T. Kirk looked up and locked eyes with Carol Marcus, whose expression of dawning horror reflected a mirror image of his own before she gasped two words. Just two. But Jim couldn't help but share the sentiment.

"Oh, no…"

_To Be Continued…_


End file.
